Sedated
by ashtondene
Summary: One Shot. Sequel to Escape. Nathan's POV on the late nights he shared with Peyton and how he handles what he finds when he goes to visit her.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Not One Tree Hill. Not Jack or Jim. I'm just a fan of all of them 

**A/N:** This is a sequel to _Escape_. It is Nathan's POV of the months he spent chatting with Peyton and his reaction to finding her in her apartment.

Even though I haven't gotten a really great response to _Escape_, I felt like the story was incomplete without seeing how Nathan was feeling and what the nights meant to him. I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review; I love to know what you think!

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_**Sedated**_

I can't believe what I have just found.

Peyton.

Peyton, overdosed on cocaine.

This can't be happening.

This can't have happened.

I just don't understand, she always seemed so happy when we would talk. I mean we didn't talk much, but when we did talk, she always seemed happy. As happy as Peyton ever gets.

I remember our first conversation those many months ago. I was in a really dark place. I had just been in my "accident" and was still in my wheelchair. Haley left and took Jamie with her. I don't blame her at all. I was lost, the worst version of myself I have ever been, which is pretty hard for me to do. But that first conversation, I remember that day well.

It was the first day that I hadn't drunk myself into a stupor to be passed out by mid-afternoon. I had actually been pretty sober for me that day. This meant I couldn't sleep. My mind was running wild 

thinking over every decision I had ever made. Thinking about all the people I have hurt. That is when I saw Peyton was on-line.

I wasn't even sure if I should talk to her. I mean, she is pretty close to the top of the list when I think about the people I have been a major ass to and hurt the most. I mean, besides Haley and Jamie, there is Peyton. My first love. It took me almost an hour to start a conversation with her.

I am sure we sounded like two miserable souls. Most of the conversation I talked and she listened. She listened to me talk about my accident, about missing basketball, losing my dreams. I mentioned Haley leaving, but didn't elaborate and she didn't press me for any details. In true Peyton form she just listened and I could see her big eyes staring into mine over the computer screen. With each nod of her head I felt instantly closer to her. I felt like if I reached out I could touch her face…it was the most peaceful and safe feeling I had felt in months.

The next day after my conversation with Peyton I didn't drink at all. I wanted to be awake so that I could talk to Peyton again that night. Luke was amazed to find me not a drunken fool when he dropped by after school that next day. Of course, I couldn't tell him about my conversation with Peyton, it just felt like betrayal. He automatically assumed that I was trying to be better for Haley, so she would come back.

I wasn't trying to get better or be better for Haley. Not that it mattered, at this point, I knew Haley was never coming back. I couldn't explain this to Lucas though, he wouldn't understand, and if he did, he wouldn't want to understand. Peyton is his always, in his mind. Even if he doesn't want her, she is his. And Haley is always mine, even if Haley doesn't want me. But that day, I was sober for Peyton.

Believe me, it was hard, but I couldn't risk not seeing her and feeling so comforted again. That night, I again was the one to start the conversation. She seemed really happy to be talking to me again. She told me about some bands that she had been watching. I forgot what it was like to see Peyton excited, especially about music. Her whole face glows and her eyes sparkle. I tried to be as attentative as she had been for me. I made sure I stared directly into her sparkling eyes, I wanted her to feel just like I had felt the night before.

I laughed as Peyton told me about her shack on the beach. I told her it sounded very free spirited of her. She, of course, asked about how I was doing today. I didn't tell her I hadn't had a drop to drink, I didn't 

want her to know about my drinking, it made feel weak, in superior, and like a failure. I wanted to be better than those things for her. So I told her today was a good day, better than the one's I'd had recently. It was a good conversation. I felt a reconnection with Peyton.

The third night was by far the best night. There were very few words exchanged. Instead, we sat and took comfort in one another's eyes. Being in each other's presence had a calming effect for both of us. The rest of the nights were nights like this. Very little talk and lots of healing. Peyton, always the best at setting a mood, would play different songs for me. Some were bands she was trying to get signed. Others were her favorites and sometimes, she would play my favorites.

It was those nights that helped heal me during the bad days. Those nights helped get me out of the wheel chair and into recovery. Those nights helped me become an athlete again.

But there were still some really bad days that only a bottle of Jack or Jim could help me through. Like the day the divorce papers came. Or the day I lost Jamie for good. Those days were days when I was passed out well before I was ever supposed to talk to Peyton. I loved the fact that she never questioned why I wasn't there. Although, looking back, I notice that there was never a night that Peyton wasn't awake, wasn't waiting for me.

In fact, looking back, I see it more. The shaking, the blood shot eyes. How at times, she looked like she hadn't slept for days. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it now. I was so wrapped up in her healing me; I never noticed the problems she had.

I never knew that I was helping her heal…not until I got here. Until I saw all of her sketches, sketches of me and of us. And the pictures she still had of us from high school. It wasn't until I was physically here that I realized how much she needed me. Not until it was too late.

Too late.

I hadn't talked to her the day before, I went to bed early, I had a long day of travelling. I was going to surprise Peyton and show up at her shack on the beach. I needed to touch her, to be close to her. I wanted her to see me up and walking. She had healed me, and I needed her to see me in person. So, to thank her, I was going to surprise her.

Unfortunately, there was bad weather at my layover in Chicago, so my flight was delayed, getting me into L.A. late in the night. So instead of the beautiful girl I had fallen in love with all over again over the months, I found a pale, cold lifeless shell of that beautiful girl.

Again, I find myself drinking from the moment I wake up until I succumb to the alcohol and sleep. Drinking is better than the alternative. Every sober, waking moment, I think of her. Think of how things could have been different. If I had told her I was coming to visit. If I had bought a direct flight, or had a lay-over in Dallas instead of Chicago. What if I had just stayed up late to chat with her the night before…

No, I cannot bear these thoughts. So instead, I find myself in the company of Jim and Jack. I don't care if no one understands why I behave this way. I will never again find comfort that compares to those sparkling eyes staring back at me.

I never want to find comfort again, _unless_ it is those sparkling eyes.

The sparkling eyes of Peyton Sawyer.


End file.
